The stuff of nightmares
by SwordStitcher
Summary: Batman is horrified to find the Rogues are in charge of Gotham and he's the one in need of treatment. Is it the pizza talking or is it something more sinister?
1. Bad pizza

A/N: I'm sure you all remember the last time Batman enter's Scarecrow's world in Arkham Asylum, specifically, the bit where he's being transported into Arkham as a patient under 'Warden Joker.' Think of this as close to AU as i'd ever go. For L.D. and Batty!

* * *

This couldn't be happening; Bruce couldn't understand what had happened. It was if he'd fallen through into a different reality, a dangerous and terrifying reality.

The Rogues were running Gotham.

The city was in sheer anarchy. People were being rounded up and arrested for _not _doing anything illegal. Arson and stealing were encouraged, muggings were performed in broad daylight and violence abounded. It was like the super –prison but it was the _entire city_.

He wandered in a daze as posters and billboards glared down at him. Campaign advertisement by none other than Oswald Cobblepot. _The Penguin_ wanted _you_ to vote him back in office.

What kind of hell had he fallen into?

The final straw came when a leather clad bruiser forced an innocent old lady into the wall and ripped her purse from her right in front of him.

_Right in front of him. In his city. Smart move._

He'd taken some guilty pleasure out of beating him to the floor. Wherever he happened to be, the thugs bled all the same.

He didn't expect the man to struggle to his knees and scream for the police. Did they think that being arrested was preferable to getting another beating by Batman?

Whatever Bruce expected when two officers finally came around the corner, it wasn't to be the one being forced into handcuffs. 'You're under arrest for obstruction of injustice!'

_What?!_

He'd been hauled back to the GCPD and came face to face with a familiar, if not wanted face. Just why Dead Switch was wearing what could loosely be called a police uniform was anyone's guess. She'd rolled up the sleeves and unbuttoned the blouse to reveal the bullet-proof vest and undershirt.

'Well, well.' She gloated from behind the intake desk. 'The commissioner's gong to be _very_ happy, lads!'

Why would Gordon be happy he was in cuffs? Wasn't Jim on his side?

'Come on.' She motioned to his escort. 'He's in a meeting, but he's going to want to see_ this_ one straight away.' She gloated.

Bruce was forced along the floor by the thugs, past the terrified faces of shackled civilians awaiting their punishment and up towards what should have been Gordon's office.

They stopped on the threshold of the closed doors and she knocked in rapid succession. The voices on the other side that had been talking ceased suddenly. 'Come in.'

She pushed open the doors and to his horror he understood why she was wearing the police uniform. Inside the office, Riddler and Penguin were chatting.

'Dead Switch,' Riddler snapped. 'I said no interruptions.'

'I know, sir. But I thought you'd want to see who we caught.' She grinned and clicked her fingers for them to drag him over the threshold properly.

Edward Nigma's face went from anger to smug in seconds. 'What did I tell you, Oswald?'

Penguin grumbled. 'Alright, Edward. I'll get on the phone to Joker; he needs to keep his establishment in better order, allowing dangers like him into my bloody city!'

'So close to voting season too.' Riddler drawled with a smirk.

'Don't remind me.' Cobblepot growled. 'I've got Dent riding my bloody arse, stealing my voters, blowing up my soddin' polling booths. Of all the dirty handed moves ta' pull. I'm fumin' that I didn't think of it first…'

'You don't need Batman saving lives.' Edward nodded sympathetically. 'He does tend to inspire the wrong kind of riot.'

The two arresting thugs had left, which left the two rogues and Dead Switch. It was the best opportunity he was going to get to escape, all he had to do was get the handcuffs off-

_**Click.**_

He rushed towards the door but was fielded by an extended night stick. Dead Switch took up a power position in front of the doors, the night stick flexed for maximum damage. He wasn't going out that way and going through Cobblepot and Nigma wasn't thinkable either.

Switch grinned, daring him to try. 'Not after the last time Bats.'

_Last time?_

Nigma approached the desk and picked up the phone. With a few words, he placed a call to Arkham Asylum. 'Joker, I have your patient here. Are you going to come and get him, or should I just outright kill him?'

The phone buzzed as Edward sighed and placed it on speakerphone. 'I have Penguin with me you barmy buffoon.'

'Oh really?' Joker's sickeningly sweet tones travelled all too well over the phone. 'I'll send my Director of Instability over right away-'

'You will do no such thing!' Edward snapped. 'It would be more prudent to send a doctor more suited to dealing with such a balanced individual! Besides, I've already got a headache, _thank you_.'

'Awww But Riddles, Harley misses you-'

'No!'

'I can always send Victor.' Joker muttered darkly.

'You're not making this easy Joker, I have crime to proliferate. _Come_. And _get_. Your _patient_.'

'Fine' Joker sighed theatrically. 'I'll send Jonny and his little shadow.'

'Personally, I think it's a bloody waste of time and money.' Cobblepot growled. 'He's incurably attached to reality. Hasn't got a nasty bone in his body.'

'I don't care if he's incurably good or just suffering delusions of greatness.' Edward replied. 'I just want him off my streets before it spreads like some disease.'

Switch stepped back and opened the door as Scarecrow and Reaper appeared. 'AH, see Clarice? I told you he'd turn up. You aren't going to get fed to Joker's hyenas just yet.'

'Lovely.' Clarice snapped back. 'Let's just get on with it-'

Bruce made a run for the open door, but had it shut in his face by Dead Switch. He backed off into the centre of the room as the three Rogues and two lackeys encircled him.

'Now, this might give you some brain damage, but what's a little cognitive impairment?' Crane laughed to himself as he readied a needle.

* * *

Bruce leapt up with a scream and tussled for a minute with what turned out to be his blankets. He sat up and gulped slightly warm air as the most slender of breezes dried the clammy sweat he was drenched in.

He recognised the familiarity of his bedroom, complete with midnight snack of pizza left on the bedside table.

A hand ran itself down his face as he gained control over his wildly accelerating heartbeat.

It was just a nightmare. _Only a nightmare._ Too much grease and cheese before bed again.

It had been so vivid though. Felt so real. But didn't they all?

No more cheating on his diet.

Commissioner Riddler, Mayor Penguin, _Warden Joker._ He knew that it was going to take him a while to forget the backwards dreams he'd just encountered.

Too wired to sleep, he picked up the empty box and grabbed his dressing gown. Alfred would probably still be up; he'd surely get a laugh out of the pizza's revenge. He had begged Bruce not to eat it so late on a night and had been right, as always.

Warden Joker, hah, _right_.


	2. Not the pizza

A/N: Personally, I'm blaming L.D. Eddy for this. She gave me a glowing review and then some awfully tempting ideas to use. As I'm extending it, we'll give it a bit of a name change. Welcome to chapter 2 of The Stuff of Nightmares! Enjoy your stay in strange land!

* * *

When he next awoke, he was in the back of a police van, facing Scarecrow and Reaper. They were arguing with each other, hardly noticing him at all.

How hard could it be to get out of the van? He'd seen rogues do it before with absolute ease!

A gun gently kissed the armour plating around his ribs. He turned just enough to see Dead Switch sat next to him, watching for any sign of resistance.

'It wasn't my fault he got out! How many times must I reiterate? The door had been _locked_!'

'What matters is that your mistake has been rectified-'

'He's awake.' The lackey spoke up which caused Scarecrow and Reaper to fall silent.

Scarecrow stood against the swaying of the van and made his way over. The non-needled hand extended to steady his head but Bruce resisted.

With a grunt, the gun was pulled back and whipped across his face. Bruce gasped as pain seared across his temples.

'Hmm. He seems to have avoided brain damage.' Scarecrow muttered disappointedly.

'That just means you get to play with him longer.' Reaper replied.

Crane turned to look at his sometime employee and insistent equal which proved to be a mistake. The lax concentration allowed Bruce to grab his wrist and force his elbow to flex just enough to deliver a shot of fear compound to the driver of the van.

The effect was instantaneous. The driver was delivered into his own personal hell and lost control. Dead Switch swore and leapt across the confined space to gain control of the steering wheel as Bruce punched Crane and shattered his glasses.

The Doctor flew back with a scream of rage and collided with Reaper. They slid into one corner as Switch struggled to get control of the skidding van. The doors flew open in the chaos and Batman took his chance. With a short run, he leapt into the abyss.

-/-

Bruce sat up with a struggle and gasped in the searing air. He was once again drenched in sweat and once again in bed.

A clammy hand pressed itself to his cheek as he frantically eyed his surroundings. Back in bed, safe, sound. No, not safe. He'd been back in that other Gotham, the one he was absolutely afraid might become a reality.

The last nightmare he'd had like that he'd put down to bad pizza, but as he searched the room for any sign of another midnight feast and found nothing amiss, he came to a different conclusion.

Down in the Batcave, he drew a vial of his own blood and sequenced it for signs of known strains of Crane's toxin.

Bruce rubbed an eye and yawned in tiredness but any sign of falling back to sleep was halted by a simple flashback.

The sequencer came back negative and he sighed. He still couldn't rule out Crane's involvement, the obsessed former psychiatrist was always perfecting and improving new strains of his famous toxin. Sometimes, he'd alter a strain so much it wouldn't appear as a known compound.

One that only affected you while you slept seemed well within his grasp, but how could he have infected Bruce? Batman hadn't seen Crane for months! As far as he was aware, Crane was still locked in Arkham.

'Master Bruce?' Alfred seemed surprised to see him in his pyjamas, at the computer.

'Alfred.' Bruce nodded and noticed the duster in the older man's hand. 'Dusting? At four in the morning?' Bruce smirked, knowingly.

'To tell you the truth master Bruce, I had a frightful nightmare and couldn't bring myself to go back to sleep.' Alfred replied.

He laughed tiredly. 'Go back to bed, Alfred.'

He didn't see or hear Alfred's leaving, too absorbed by the information that ran down his computer screen even that, ventuall faded into blurred squiggles as his tired eyes struggled to keep up with the wealth of information flooding the screen.

_**BEEP! BEEP! BEEP!**_

Bruce's eyes snapped open; he'd been on the verge of falling asleep again. Something he was keen to avoid until he'd figured out what was happening to him.

The computer had found a match, but not a direct one. It was yesterday's news article detailing a wealth of people who'd experienced vivid, violent nightmares after falling asleep. All of them, their worst fears. They'd woken in bed, clammy, alarmed and shaken. Some even detailed police reports after men or women had woken from their fever's, grabbed the first thing to hand and hit their sleeping partner.

The symptoms tallied with his own. This _was_ Crane's doing….But how was he doing it?

He yawned and stood to refill his coffee mug.

There had to be an answer.

Somewhere, there was an answer and he would find it.


	3. Looking for answers

A/N: Can you guys tell I'm having way too much fun with this?

* * *

How was he doing it? Bruce couldn't work it out. He was several steps behind as it was and with each passing day there were more and more cases cropping up. He hadn't slept since his second encounter with the toxin's effects and he was becoming too tired to continue functioning properly but he had to continue lapping the city these days with the constant tension and anger that ran through the streets.

People were afraid to sleep and there was nothing wrong with that, but the sleepless nights and fear of dreams were starting to make people crack. Just last night he'd been forced to separate two warring men who accused the other of killing someone who _wasn't even there_. They were a fictional character from a television series.

It wasn't just the police being strained; the ambulance service and hospitals were inundated with casualties and patients. Crane's new toxin had killed thirty people so far through secondary causes like heart attacks and strokes and it had been indirectly responsible for hundreds of injuries. Bruce was no closer to finding an antidote or it's creator and it was pushing even him to his limits.

With a heavy sigh he sank into the comfortable leather chair in front of his computer and pulled the cowl back. In the darkness of the monitors, he looked like he'd been given two black eyes. His skin was pale and flushed by the exhaustion and stress.

'Sir, you cannot keep this up.' Alfred noted in concern.

'You think I don't know that, Alfred?' Bruce sighed. 'I need to find how he's delivering his toxin to people.'

Slowly, he reached into a hidden pocket and pulled out a vial of blood he'd taken from another suspected victim earlier in the day. 'Another sample?' Alfred asked as he took some of the red liquid from It's container.

'I've sequenced all I can from my own blood, if we hope to find a cure, I need the complete formula.' Bruce leaned back into the chair and sighed.

'Or to find Doctor Crane.' Alfred noted.

'Yes.' Bruce sighed heavily. 'And both are not going well.'

'I shall make a pot of tea. There's nothing quite like a strong cup of tea to wake up your senses.' Alfred quipped.

Bruce chuckled to himself as he heard Alfred head upstairs to fetch the teapot. At least someone knew what they were doing; he had no clue how to fix this situation quickly.

The cave had descended into silence once again and the chair was exquisitely comfortable to a man who'd been on his feet breaking up fights and rows non stop for a few hours.

Almost effortlessly, Bruce's eyes slid shut.

* * *

Bruce found himself back in another of Crane's hallucinations. Once again, he was in the Police Commissioner's office, although this time he didn't seem to be under attack. In fact, it was bathed in moonlight and completely empty.

With a lack of anything better to do, he approached the ornately carved desk of office and began looking through the papers stacked around the computer.

Frustratingly, they were all encrypted. Riddler used some kind of shorthand system that probably only he could understand.

He paused when he heard footsteps coming closer to the door and slipped effortlessly into the shadows afforded by the spacious office.

No sooner had he blended in, then Dead Switch came through the door. The last he'd seen of her, she'd been attempting to keep control of the transfer van as it's driver freaked out.

It looked like the van had not ended safely. She was limping slightly and had fresh cuts and bruises to her face that had been tended to inexpertly. It baffled him that she'd never bothered to take a first aid course while incarcerated to improve the gap in her education.

Not long after her, Edward Nigma walked through the door.

'The place is empty!' She wheezed. 'You dragged me out of my sickbed and it's empty!'

'There was a hack moments ago, Dead Switch. Someone is feeding Dent, or worse, _Batman_ my information.'

'I don't see anyone here.' She sighed and for a moment, looked undecided. 'Go and get breakfast sir, I'll see what I can find.'

Nigma snorted, as though the extent of what she would find would fall below his expectations he nevertheless agreed with her actions. He strode back towards the door lazily. 'Call me _the second_ you find anything of use.'

'Of course.'

She waited until he was out of earshot before she groaned and ran a hand down her ribs. Bruce should have known by the limited range of movement and wheezing gasps that she'd fractured one or two ribs.

She bent over the desk, obviously in pain and for a minute, Bruce felt bad for causing the crash.

That was overridden when a blade sank into the plasterwork by his head. He dodged the second projectile, but that forced him out into the open.

Now, he had no options and no sympathy. She'd thrown knives at him_. Knives that had nearly cut him. _ Even if she was a hallucination. He launched himself over the desk and pinned her against a wall.

'Breaking and entering, Batman?' She laughed, despite the fact he held her to the wall by the throat. 'Bit naughty for you, isn't it?' She screeched in pain as he applied pressure to her sore ribs.

'I need some questions answered.' He snarled.

'Good luck!' She spat seriously. 'It's not worth my life to tell you anything.'

'Are we going to play that game?' Bruce sighed and pressed his fist to her ribs again. She screamed, but he hadn't anticipated the leg that flexed against his chest and pried him from her.

Bruce stumbled back as she slid down the wall but she didn't remain there for long. She lunged at the desk and came away with another knife.

His systems registered an alarm had been triggered at the same time. An alarm linked to Riddler's personal line.

He really should get out while he can, but Riddler's central hub of information was the best chance he had of finding out what the hell was going on.

They danced and dodged around the office for far too long.

Riddler burst through the door as though he'd run a marathon and seemed relieved that Switch had kept him busy long enough for him to arrive and take the credit for his capture. 'Ah, Batman!' He laughed with barely a wheeze. 'Back again?'

He was still struggling with Switch but grunted as Riddler caught his breath. 'Surrender Dark Knight!' Nigma urged him.

Bruce ignored the gulping megalomaniac and managed to push Dead Switch away from him. She stumbled but caught herself and made to tackle him again, cracked ribs or not.

A shot pierced the air and Switch went down with a scream of absolute pain. Batman whirled around to face Riddler who still had a gun pointing at her prone, shivering figure. 'Why?' He raged.

'Are you going to let her bleed out and die Dark Knight? Or are you going to surrender to allow a medical team in here?' Edward gloated. 'Her life is your choice.'

He knew what the answer would have to be, one look confirmed it. She was bleeding heavily onto the floor, bullet-proof vest or not, the shot had gone straight through it.

The medical team buzzed over her shaking, sobbing form as Edward approached their blue-skinned leader. Freis looked entirely unhappy with the situation as he watched Batman struggle with the uniformed police that were holding him down for Crane's nighty-night juice. 'It isn't like you Edward.' Freis remarked.

'To make such a mess? Of course not.' Riddler sighed.

'To shoot one of your own officers.' Freis noted.

'She's a pawn, Victor. One must occasionally be sacrificed for the king to secure a larger pawn.'

'I note, however that the bullet missed everything of vital import and several major arteries. In fact, if I'm given to understand the nature of the wound correctly, it would be the ideal place to be shot. Little impact but plenty of pain.' Freis turned to look at Nigma with a calculating eye. Like everything Edward undertook in his life; his firearms expertise was finely tuned and admittedly, brilliant.

'Really?' He allowed himself a smirk. 'How strange. I could have sworn I aimed a little higher.'

The room was already starting to spin thanks in part to the contents of the needle that had been injected into his veins but Bruce held on a little longer. For a hallucination this felt entirely too real.

'We're ready to go sir, the wound has been stemmed.' One of the blue suited medics spoke to Freis.

They made room for the Police Commissioner as she was loaded onto a gurney. 'Did it have to be armour piercing?' She wailed.

'No. Consider it your punishment for letting him escape you the first time. Be thankful I avoided an artery.' He smirked. 'It's a flesh wound. You'll be much more mobile in a few weeks.'

'I feel so much better already!' She seethed.

Bruce finally succumbed to the drugs as things dissolved into bright bubbles of colour.


End file.
